


A Great, Chill, Purple Shadow

by WretchedArtifact



Category: Original Work
Genre: Anal Sex, Choking, Deepthroating, F/M, Gangbang, Ghost Sex, Ghosts, Haunted Houses, Rough Sex, Vaginal Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-04
Updated: 2019-09-04
Packaged: 2020-10-06 18:42:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,779
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20511704
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WretchedArtifact/pseuds/WretchedArtifact
Summary: Dinah gets a great deal on an old, out-of-the-way house in the country.Nobody warns her why the price was set so low.





	A Great, Chill, Purple Shadow

**Author's Note:**

  * For [sea_of_eternity](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sea_of_eternity/gifts).

The owner of the old house on Thistle Street sold it to Dinah for a song. “It’s a fixer-upper, for sure,” he said. “I don’t have the money to put into it. You’ll be doing me a favor to take it at this price.”

Dinah honestly thought he was overstating it. The outside needed some repairs and a new coat of paint, and the porch had a big broken gap in it, but the inside of the house was perfectly habitable. There was electricity, and phone service, and hookups for a washer and dryer. It took her a week to move all her things in, and when she checked out of her hotel to go spend the first night in her new home, she felt both happy and proud.

She puttered around the house for several hours before bedtime, rearranging furniture, unpacking errant boxes. Everything was very quiet out here on the dead end of Thistle Street: her nearest neighbors were quite a distance away. That had been a point in its favor, when she first considered buying it. She liked having her privacy. But she had also never lived in an older house before, and the wood frame _did_ creak a little unnervingly at times. And there was the occasional rustling sound in the foliage outside, the sound of scampering animals eerie in the rural silence. When Dinah was finally tired enough to sleep, she folded back the bedspread and got under the covers with the lights still on. She would grow used to the creaks and silence in time, she knew, but until then it didn’t hurt to have that little bit of comfort.

* * *

Dinah awoke in the middle of the night to the feeling of cold air on her lower half. She blinked her eyes open. It was darker in the room than she expected. Hadn’t she left the lamp on?

She lifted her head off the pillow. The bedclothes covering her legs were folded to one side, and there was cloth bunched up around her ankles. She recognized the blue plaid pattern: those were her pajama pants.

She blinked again. For some reason, even though the room was dark, her eyes seemed to make out a strange, filmy light in the air around her bed. She sat up a little, her tired mind thinking that she must’ve kicked off her pajamas in her sleep, but when she went to pull them back up, she felt something startling and unexpected: a cool, hard pressure between her legs.

“What--” she said.

And then she heard the creak of the rafters above her head, and the filmy light swam in front of her eyes, and the hard pressure _shoved_, cold thickness jamming up into her unprepared cunt. Dinah shrieked, hands battering at the air in front of her, but there was nothing there. Her cunt was full, painfully straining around _something_, but there was _nothing there. _

Then another sensation: a feeling like the clutch of a hand on her thigh. She was still half-sitting up, and when she looked down between her legs she could see the indent of it, the dimpled flesh where fingers seemed to be digging into her soft skin. The light shifted and danced in front of her eyes, like an oily film over her retinas, and she felt another hand, and then another, and _another. _One on her calf--she could see the cruel divots in her flesh--and one on her neck, the pressure tangible against her windpipe, and one on her stomach, tangling in the cloth of her shirt and tearing it upward. Her shirt flew up over her eyes, the collar scraping along her neck and digging under her chin, and the invisible source yanked it hard twice, three times, until it finally pulled free.

Around her ankles, her pajama bottoms were tugged free and sent flying, and that left her with nothing to cover her up. She felt more hands alight upon her body, pairs and pairs of them: rough hands, calloused hands. _Men’s_ hands. Her eyes only saw smeared, spectral light, but her body felt _men_: they were manipulating her helpless flesh, squeezing her breasts and spreading her thighs. The cold thickness in her cunt drew back and shoved into her again, and Dinah gasped like she’d been punched. Then a hand grabbed hold of her jaw, turning her head to the side, and another cold hardness shoved between her open lips. It sank past the back of her mouth and straight down into her throat, and she choked, squealing around it, desperately inhaling through her nose. There was nothing in front of her face except a faint shimmer like a far-off heatwave, but she could feel hands holding her jaw open as the hardness in her throat started to move_, _pulling out and thrusting back in through the wide circle of her straining lips. It felt like a cock--it had the fleshy firmness of one--but it was chilly and had no taste, no scent.

She felt a _smack_ against her ass, with a crack like a real hand impacting, and then a flare of pain as the hand did it again in the same spot, hard. Her eyes, already watering from the cock forcing its way down her throat, spilled over in streams of tears. Between her legs, the cock in her cunt was starting to move vigorously, sawing in and out of her with powerful, muscular thrusts. Fingers pinched hard at her nipples, grasped her breasts at the base so the flesh bulged painfully over invisible, squeezing hands. She made a sobbing, protesting sound around the cock in her throat, trying to form _please_ or _help_ or _mercy_, but her mouth was stretched open too wide. That cold, thick hardness plunged down into her airway again and again, until she felt drool starting to collect under her tongue, spilling down her chin in slick rivulets as the chance to swallow or spit never came.

_Smack _came another slap against her ass, provoking another choked squeal from her throat, and then she felt another cold hardness nudging at the pucker of her ass. She made a loud, protesting bellow, desperate, horrified, and she felt one of the hands holding her jaw let go and give her a firm smack across the face. It was so hard that her head flew sideways, right off the spectral cock, and she had a few seconds to gasp for air, coughing out thick ropes of spit, before the cold hand was on her burning cheek again and the cock was forcing its way back into her mouth.

The cock against her ass pressed hard, and it was somehow _wet_, sliding a little as it tried to gain purchase. Then it found the right angle, and it shoved into her by an inch, the hard protrusion butting against her inner walls and slowing the already-moving cock in her cunt. She'd never had anything in her ass before, and it _burned, _her unprepared hole scraped open and forced wide around the thick girth. She dragged in another tortured breath through her nose as the cocks between her legs shifted and struggled against one another, pairs of hands on her hips and thighs fighting over the position of her body. She felt the moment when they got it right, when her writhing body slotted straight open and their cocks both surged up into her at the same time, stuffing her narrow insides so full that she was sure it would break her. She forgot to breathe, choking around the cock in her throat, and the smeared light in front of her eyes went speckled with dark spots. She was going to die. She was going to die choking and split open around _absolutely nothing at all. _

Then the cock in her throat pulled free, and she gargled out more spit and inhaled raggedly. Something cold and thick and wet slapped against her cheek, her lips, her forehead, and her dazed brain tried to construct the image of it in front of her: a man slapping his dripping cockhead against her face. But there was nothing to see, and the weak image fell apart when she felt another cock join in, cool thick flesh striking hard against her nose and closed eyelids. It was startling and demeaning, and she found herself _relieved _by it, because at least it wasn’t her mouth, at least they were letting her breathe.

But between her legs the two cocks were pounding out a horrible ragged rhythm, fighting against each other, shoving around inside her to lay claim to the limited space. There wasn't _room_ inside her body for two of them at once, but they were relentless in trying, each vicious simultaneous push making her sob and cry out. _"Please_," she said, but the instant she said it, one of the cocks slapping her face shoved into her mouth to shut her up. When it pulled out she tried again, _"Please stop_," and the cock shoved in again, cool against her lips, fleshy but tasting of nothing, smelling of nothing. This time it rammed deep into her throat again, and for a horrible second she was full, absolutely full, every millimeter of space inside her straining open around cock. Then the rhythm turned ragged again, as the cock in her ass dragged backward through her burning, stinging rim, as the cock in her cunt landed a sharp, jabbing thrust against her cervix, as the hands on her head pulled her mouth-first onto a cock, the fat head dragging roughly along her soft palate and making her gag.

Then she felt more hands--digging, squeezing, slapping--and more cocks--shoved into the palms of her hands, her fingers bent forcefully around them until she gripped. The spectral light in the room glowed like slippery moonlight, and she closed her eyes with a gagging sob. There was none of her left that was _hers:_ every limb, every orifice was taken up by men’s hands, men’s cocks, men’s muscular thrusting power. Her cunt throbbed and her ass burned and her throat made wet, fleshy little noises every time the cock shoved past the bend at the back of her mouth, and it was all she could do to breathe, thin rattling drags through her nose.

If they had been real men, she would at least have the comfort of knowing they would eventually run out of energy. They would come, and their cocks would go limp and slip free of her aching holes.

But they weren’t real men. They were formless light, scentless flesh.

And dawn was still hours away.


End file.
